


dethwedding redux

by deaddybear



Series: nickles week [1]
Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Episode: S02E07 Dethwedding, M/M, Slow Dancing, nickles week 2021, the song is "love of a lifetime" by firehouse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-16
Updated: 2021-02-16
Packaged: 2021-03-19 01:20:53
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,846
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29499456
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deaddybear/pseuds/deaddybear
Summary: pickles is forced to participate in the family slow dance at his brother's wedding - nathan is the bandmate he picks to help him out.
Relationships: Nathan Explosion/Pickles the Drummer
Series: nickles week [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/2166852
Comments: 2
Kudos: 20





	dethwedding redux

**Author's Note:**

> nickles week day 3! au or canonverse - i picked canonverse (even tho it branches off anyways)

“MOTHURR! No wey! I’m naht fucking dancing!” Pickles yells, practically kicking and screaming, as his mother yanks him by the arm towards the dance floor of the reception hall. “I fucking suck at it, you know thet!”

“Oh please, MTV says atherwise,” his mother’s voice is sing-songy, despite the fact that she’s roughly dragging him. “It’s your brather’s weddin’, Pickles!”

“I fucking know thet! I wish anyone would let me fuckin’ forget!” Pickles’ hands claw through the air as he tries to get away. “You need two people to fucking do that slow dance shit, ma! I didn’t bring a—“

“Just grab one of your little friends!” His mother says, even as Pickles instantly shakes his head. “You know doing the first dance is a faemiley tradition! Do ya really want yer brather’s weddin’ to be ruined?”

“Fuck this gahddamn wedding!” Pickles yells, and is only meet with everyone around him raising a glass and cheering. Pickles hates Wisconsin, and his family, with such a burning passion that he can barely see straight. He’s been through so much trying to deal with them, trying to make them happy for some godforsaken reason, and if fucking dancing with one of his friends is what it’s gonna take to end this night, then he’s glad to get it over with.

“Fine, fine!” Pickles finally yanks his wrist out of his mother’s grip. “Jesus! Lemme fucking grab, uh....”

Well, Murderface is automatically out of the question. When Pickles looks around, he sees Skwisgaar flirting with one of his cousins - of course, and _ good luck _ _to him_ with Pickles’ crazy ass family - and Toki pounding back shots with a couple of Seth’s shithead friends. That only leaves...

Pickles’ face practically lights on fire, hands shaking as his legs stiffly carry himself over to the bar. He snatches a drink out of someone’s hands, throwing it back quickly. Nate would be cool about this, right? He wouldn’t, like, be tipped off about a certain drummer having a certain embarrassing crush on him, would he? God, they would have to like...hold each other. Look at each other, and Pickles has a hard enough time as it is making eye contact with Nathan because he really doesn’t want the big guy to know that he’s still hopelessly crazy about him. They'd tried this, back in the day, and it all fell apart. He'd do anything to keep Nathan in his life, even if it's just as his friend, and this could really risk making shit weird, right?  


But he looks back at his mother's expectant face, and he knows he has to do this, so Pickles walks over to where Nathan stands leaned up against the wall, nursing some scotch and looking bored as he stares down at his Dethphone.

“Heeeeey, Nate,” Pickles leans against the wall with him, and his heart beats just a little faster as Nathan’s eyes light up at his presence.

“Hey,” Nathan rumbles, and Pickles sneaks a peak at him. The chiseled, strong side profile of his face as he watches people start to couple up for the slow dance. The way his suit fits so right, yet seems like it would totally snap off of his body if Nathan flexed his muscles or crossed his arms. Fuck. Pickles swallows and forces himself to look away, his nerves suddenly getting the better of him.

“God. Could you imagine having to do this shit?” Nathan snorts, gesturing to the dance floor. He notices Pickles’ mom and dad get into dancing position, Seth and Amber, Pickles’ crusty-ass grandparents...and Pickles’ tries to look anywhere but his frontman as Nathan raises an eyebrow, “ _ Do _ _you_ have to do this?”

“I’m s’posed to,” Pickles grumbles, cheeks pink as Nathan’s eyebrows raise. “Thets, ahhm. It’s super fuckin’ not metal, dude, but...I-I didn’t bring a date, yknow?”

“Yeah, that’s....uh. That sucks,” Nathan offers lamely, still not picking up what Pickles is putting down, and the drummer groans as he puts his hands over his face.

“Nate'n. Will you fuckin...?” Pickles gestures towards the dance floor, and he can see the gears in Nathan’s brain start to turn as he continues, “I need someone to dance this shit with. You don’t gotta do nothin’ except for sway around ‘n look good, but my mam will fuckin’ have my head if I don’t—“

“Oh,” Nathan says, lightbulb over his head, green eyes wide as he looks at Pickles. His face flushes, as his eyes dart around nervously, “I...uh. I’m not very, like, graceful, Pickles. Maybe not the best choice for—“

“PICKLES!” His mother yells, as the lights overhead flash in warning. “GRAB ONE ‘O YER LITTLE FRIENDS ‘N GIT OUT HERE!”

Nathan looks over at the drummer, and Pickles knows it’s playing dirty when he hits Nate with the sad puppy eyes, but it usually always gets him his way. Sure enough, Nathan’s shoulders drop, and he groans, “Fuck. Fine, whatever. But you owe me.”

“Oh, gahd. Thanks, Nate,” Pickles says in relief, running a hand over his face, and Nathan merely grumbles as the two of them walk over to the dance floor. The shitty Wisconsin DJ - one of Seth’s friends from high school, usually spends his Saturday nights set up in the kiddie park trying to sell crystal meth to minors - gets on the microphone, “Ooookey, we’re gonna slow it dooown a little, in hahnor of the groom bringin’ a new member into th’ mix, and do the faemily dance!”

Nathan’s face twists up in a scowl as he mutters, “I swear to fucking god, if he plays goddamn pop music bullshit..."

"Oh, dood, I know. It's so fuckin' lame when people do thet crep, like. Imagine _us_ , fuckin' Dethklak, dancin' to Ed Sheeran." 

Nathan laughs, "Don't even say that, my god." 

Okay, maybe this won't be so bad. Some shitty song will play, and it won't be romantic, and this dance will just be an insignificant four minutes of their lives. But nothing's ever that easy for Pickles, is it? Because the  first few notes of, surprisingly, an 80’s love rock ballad, ring out. Him and Nathan look at each other in alarm, faces flushing, and he quickly tries to find something else to look at. Pickles glances at his mother, who’s also about to start dancing with his asshole dad, and she smiles at him. It’s rare for Pickles to get a smile from her - so he knows he’s going to have to do a good job and keep it together throughout this song.

Nathan swallows audibly, hands hovering in the air for a couple seconds, before one settles with a surprising gentleness on Pickles’ waist. He holds the other one up, face burning as he looks anywhere but his drummer, and Pickles realizes what he’s doing and threads together their fingers. The lighting drops into something pink and dreamlike, and the two of them are swaying.

“I’m sahrry about this,” Pickles mutters, hyperaware of the way Nathan’s big hand is settled on his lower back. When he’s nervous, he can blather on endlessly, and he can hear his mouth running a mile a minute, “I appreciate it, Nate’n, it’s really cool of you to like, yknow, do this fer me. Heh, I know you’d prabably would rather be anywhere else’n—“

“No,” Nathan’s voice is a quiet rumble, and Pickles’ mouth snaps shut in surprise. “This is, uh. Alright. With me.”

“Oh. Okey, ah. Cool,” Pickles says, and he hopes Nathan can’t tell how violently he’s blushing, how his hand is sweating and shaking where it's threaded with his frontman's. Pickles chances a look upwards, which, in the scheme of trying to calm down, it's a mistake -  there’s a hint of a scowl on Nathan's face, the apples of his cheeks pink as he glances down at Pickles, and it’s...it’s so fucking cute. There’s no other word to describe it, and the drummer feels a small, gooey smile creep across his face as his heart hammers hard in his chest. He hears himself murmur, “Y’look real nice, Nate’n.”

Nathan’s eyes snap to his own, the flush on his face worsening, his fingers twitching around Pickles’. “What.”

“Oh, I was jest, heh, um-“ Pickles feels all the breath whoosh out of himself with an embarrassed nervousness, because he definitely didn’t mean to say that out loud. Nathan’s doing him a favor, and Pickles is being a dick and making him uncomfortable. He tries to recover, word vomit spilling out, “Y’know, you don’t really wear suits ‘er nothin’ thet much and it’s, it’s—it’s a good look on you. But you look good in everythin’ and you know theat—yer gorgeous, heh, and—oh gahd.”

“Pickles,” Nathan rumbles, a nervous tremor rattling through the drummer's body as he waits for the frontman to fucking deck him. But then  the tiniest of smiles fight its’ way onto Nathan's face, and he huffs, “Relax.” 

Pickles' eyelashes flutter as he gulps, a breath he didn't know he was holding rattling out of him. Nathan's right, he needs to calm down, so he tries to channel his inner Snakes 'n Barrels performer's courage, and he shuts up as the two of them sway together.  Nathan's voice is hesitant, and low, as he mutters,  "I'm, um. I'm...well, you know I don't like apologizing. And family drama _is_ funny. But...it was kinda shitty, making you stay here for this. I should've fucking decked Murderface for hitting you."  


'Aw, dood. It didn't hurt. He's jest a dick," Pickles says softly, looking away. "But thenks for seyin' thet." 

"I'll make it up to you," Nathan rumbles, pulling him a little closer, and the redhead feels like he's choking on his own tongue as they ease into something...different. His head ends up tucked against Nathan's chest, cheek pressed against the fabric of his tie, and he can fucking hear the big guy's thundering heartbeat as the side of Nathan's face kind of nuzzles against his own. The big hand on his waist slides up his back, holding him there, and Pickles feels warm and floaty, the music crooning above him, Nathan's breath hot against the side of his face. 

"Yer good at this," Pickles whispers, unthinkingly rubbing his warm face against Nathan's. "Heh, reminds me of--"

"When we were back in that shitty Florida apartment? Yeah, I know." Nathan's smile presses against him, and he knows they're both thinking about the way the two of them used to share the floor mattress back at the first place they'd ever lived together. Back when everything was simple, and they'd openly loved each other. Pickles would live for the little moments where he'd wake up first, and snuggle himself tighter against Nathan's larger, warmer body, reveling in the feeling of those big arms holding him like he's something precious. 

That's how he feels right now, and god did he miss this, as a romantic guitar solo envelops them, pulling them closer together. Pickles looks upwards, watching the pink lights dance on Nathan’s face as their eyes meet, and Nathan’s big, gentle hand rubs a circle on his back. 

“Nate’n,” he whispers, because their faces are really fucking close to each other now. Like, he can feel Nathan’s breath on his mouth and see little tiny flecks of gold in the green sea of his eyes, and he watches with baited breath as Nathan’s teeth drag over his bottom lip. The next thing he knows, Nathan is leaning in to close the distance, and they’re still swaying to the music, and it’s like Pickles is under a spell as he closes his eyes, his hand that had been on Nathan’s shoulder cups his chiseled face, and--  


And then the song changes. Pickles and Nathan both jump, the moment snapping like a rubber band, as another love ballad starts crooning out, and then everyone is _looking at him_. Pickles' eyes dart around, and then he realizes - the voice singing right now is his own. The DJ changed it to a goddman Snakes 'n Barrels song, a love ballad he'd written for Suzy Fat Tits or something and ended up keeping for himself, and he clutches to Nathan desperately as all the annoyance and stress of being in stupid fucking Wisconsin floods back in like a tsunami. 

Nathan looks like a deer in headlights, and it always takes the big guy a couple extra minutes to figure out what's going on - but when the two of them step away from each other they both look kind of heartbroken to have to let go. They stare at each other, and Pickles know they're going to have to act likt they're just regular pals again , ignore their feelings for the sake of the band like always, but. God, it would be so metal if they could've finally given in...  


“Fuhhkin Snakes ‘n Barrels!” Seth laughs, wasted out of his mind, as he and his bride sway back and forth. 

"Fuck you, asshole!" Pickles flicks up both his middle fingers, Nathan flatly extending two of his own in backup. His brother merely laughs, leading Amber back to the center of the dance floor, and Pickles watches with baited breath as his mom and dad stop dancing and make eye contact with him.  


“See? Now was that so bad,” His mother swats at his shoulder as she walks by. “Thank you, Pickles. I know Sethy appreciates you!”

Pickles snorts half-hysterically, because that’s a fucking lie, but whatever. His mother said ‘thank you’ to him, and it’s probably the best thing he’s heard all year. So, he turns to Nathan, embarassed yet grateful, “Um. Hah, thanks dude.”

“Whatever,” Nathan shrugs a bulky shoulder, wringing his hands in front of him. Pickles wonders if now that the spell of the moment is broken, Nathan regrets letting himself get so close to him, and he swallows nervously as he waits for the frontman to say something. Finally, he mutters, "Wanna get our shit set up for the performance?"  


Pickles nods weakly, and the two of them walk off, like nothing ever happened. And when he beats the shit out of Seth later, it's much easier not to feel guilty, when he thinks about the kiss that got taken away from him.  


-

They stay in the Dethbus that night, as they've got a long drive back to Mordhaus ahead of them. Pickles feels sick and guilty and _exhausted_ , but by god, is he happy it's finally over. He watches Skwisgaar heft a passed-out Toki off to his room, Murderface is snoring in the hot tub, and he's barely seen since Nathan since they performed, so. He takes that as his cue to stop icing his fists at the bus' bar and trudge off to his own room. 

He's barely drifted off to sleep when he's gently shaken awake. When his green eyes flutter upwards to see who the hell is bothering him, expecting it to be Murderface or Skwisgaar with a bad dream or something, he nearly swallows his tongue when he sees it's Nathan. It's almost a picture-perfect recreation of fifteen years ago, when the frontman was younger and quieter and would just look at Pickles until he'd lift up his covers and let him in. So, Pickles stares back, lifting up the covers, and Nathan doesn't hesitate before hefting himself into Pickles' bed with him. 

"Hey," he rumbles, visibly swallowing. "Is this...alright." 

"Yeah, dood," Pickles whispers, and they almost instantly fall into their old pattern. Nathan on his side, Pickles slotted against his chest, face tucked underneath the frontman's chin. Strong arms cuddle him close, big hands slide up his back, brushing his dreds off his shoulder, and Pickles sighs contentedly as he curls in closer. For the first time since he got that DVD invite from Seth in the mail, he feels...calm. His voice is quiet as he noses against the frontman's throat, "I missed you, like this." 

Nathan doesn't say anything for a long time, and Pickles feels himself start to fade off to sleep. But then the frontman's voice rumbles against him, “Remember when I said you, uh. Owe me.”

Pickles raises a pierced eyebrow, asking sleepily, “Mhm. Whaddyo y’want? Maney or somethin?”

“I was, uhhh. Thinking,” Nathan growls, as his hands twitch on Pickles' back, “Maybe we could like. Do the thing, that almost did earlier. The thing we used to do, a lot. With our faces and...mouths.”  Pickles blinks, eyes opening, as Nathan mutters out of the corner of his mouth, “Y’know, make out. With...each other.”

Pickles’ heart is suddenly hammering in his throat as he swallows, “Uhhh. I mean. If that’s...yeeeah. We could do thet.”

"Cool," Nathan growls, cupping the side of his face, crashing their lips together in a kiss so passionate he has to hold on for dear life.  He swears he can hear the song they'd danced to playing in the background, as Nathan's lips push and pull against his own, and everything suddenly feels like it's going to be okay again. 


End file.
